


Slow Dance

by shaolin103



Category: White Collar
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-01
Updated: 2012-11-01
Packaged: 2017-11-17 02:28:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,369
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/546639
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shaolin103/pseuds/shaolin103
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Response to a <a href="http://community.livejournal.com/collarkink/1404.html?thread=1764988#t1764988">prompt</a> from collarkink community. Prompt was: <em>Peter and Neal slow dancing in Peter’s office.</em></p>
            </blockquote>





	Slow Dance

Title: Slow Dance  
Fandom: White Collar  
Rating: PG  
Summary: Response to a [prompt](http://community.livejournal.com/collarkink/1404.html?thread=1764988#t1764988) from collarkink community. Prompt was:  _Peter and Neal slow dancing in Peter’s office._  
Pairing/Characters: Peter/Neal (can be pre-slash)  
Spoilers: None  
Warning: None except for a bit of fluff.  
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. Not mine. They belong to whoever owns them.  
A/N: First foray into the White Collar fandom. Hope it pleases. Also, Unbetaed, mistakes are solely mine.

Slow Dance

 

Neal stared at the screen in front of him, rubbing his eyes as the words became blurry. The small clock on Peter’s desk said it was barely six in the evening. _Barely Six PM_. The sun had not even set yet. But here he was, a perfectly nocturnal individual, nodding off in front of a computer, composing a report on the day’s events through drooping, sleepy eyes.

It didn’t help that he’d been up for the past thirty-six hours. He’d gone longer without sleep before but it didn’t involve running around New York City in a race against time, charming his way into predicaments then charming his way out of them, getting guns pointed at him and then getting shot at by them. And so on and so forth.

Nothing new, really.

Except, it had been a high profile case so time was of the essence. Which meant the whole department worked straight until the case was solved.

Jones, Diana and the rest of the agents had gone home. _Probably because their reports weren’t as long as his_ , he thought bitterly. Peter was with Hughes somewhere downtown, wrapping up the case with a press conference. High profile ones did tend to draw in the media’s attention.

Neal had gone up to Peter’s office to finish his report as soon as the silence of the bullpen had become unnerving. He had turned off all the lights down there and told himself that he would be conserving power if he worked in Peter’s office rather than at his usual table.

Neal shifted in his (Peter’s) seat, trying to look for the most uncomfortable position he can find. The way he saw it, the least comfortable he was – the least likely his body will succumb to the exhaustion.

So, it was no surprise that Peter found him half an hour later, sitting cross-legged _on top_ of the table with the keyboard cradled between the swoop of his crossed calves, elbow on a knee, head tilted sideways and resting on an awkwardly bent hand. There’s soft music playing from his computer, which told him Neal had been tinkering with his files.

A reprimand about staying out of his playlist died in his throat when he heard the soft snores coming from the young conman's slumped form.

“Neal.” He whispered as he lightly shook the younger man awake.

Neal woke, slightly disoriented. “Peter.” Came the sleepy reply.

“Neal, why are you sitting on top of my table?”

“I-uhhh…” Neal stammered, sleep muddled brain slowly catching up with his surroundings. “I was nodding off and I figured if I sat on something with no backrest and headrest or support of whatever I’ll be able to keep myself awake.” He explained, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. “Didn’t quite work out, though.” He added sourly.

“No it didn’t.” Peter said, slightly amused as he sat himself along the edge of the table to face Neal.

“I think it’s your collection of music that put me to sleep.” Neal told him with a slight pout and before Peter could stop himself, he was reaching out to brush a lock of hair away from Neal’s forehead.

Neal stared at him, surprised at the small gesture.

“Don’t mock my taste in music.” Peter said, feigning annoyance. “Everybody’s gone home. What are you still doing here?”

“Paperwork.” Neal replied tiredly.

“C’mon, let’s get you home.” Peter offered, lifting the keyboard off Neal’s leg and putting it aside.

He was about to shut his PC off when a particular slow song played and an idea suddenly occurred, now seemed the best time to put something he’s been meaning to do into action, _What was there to lose?,_ he thought to himself as he took a long look at Neal’s sleepy form.

“C’mere. Maybe this will help you wake up.” He said as he cleared the tabletop, trying to sound as calm as he could amidst the suddenly rapid thudding of his beating heart.

Neal’s blue eyes widened in shock as Peter lightly grasped his arm, climbed on the table Neal was still perched on and pulled Neal up with him.

“Uhm, Peter? What are you doing?” Neal asked, still slightly confused but nevertheless allowed himself to be pulled up to a standing position. The small office table softly creaked, as if in complaint of having two grown men standing (close together) on top of it.

“I kind of like this song. I figured we could dance to it.” Peter replied, too nonchalant for Neal’s liking. Peter slowly swept the hand lightly grasping Neal’s arm down to gently grab his hand and lift it, fingers curling softly around each other. The other hand was sneak thief as it came around Neal’s waist and Neal found himself being pulled forward against a warm body as an arm wound tightly around him.

“You mean slow dance to…” Neal strained his ears to listen to the song. “The Way You Look Tonight?” He asked, slightly incredulous.

“Mmmhmmm.” Was Peter’s only reply as he smoothened a palm along Neal’s back and started swaying them both to the music.

“It isn’t fair that you get to lead.” Neal softly said with a sigh of defeat and allowed himself to relax and be swayed under Peter’s hold, resting his temple against Peter’s cheek and listening to the older man hum softly against his ear.

They stayed that way for who knew how long, the small table giving little space to move yet even though confined, their movements were graceful. Well, as graceful as Peter’s two left feet and a three-foot wide table can be.  Besides, it gave Peter an excuse to hold Neal as close as he can against him, relying on the logic that if Neal was farther from him the younger man might send them toppling down.

The sun behind them was finally setting and for an office without a view this was as close to a romantic, picturesque scene Peter can ever get. It was perfect.

Peter would have wanted to enjoy the moment further but then Reese Hughes had to ruin all of it by rapping on his open door. The sound made both of them jump. Neal, who had seemed content on lightly dozing off with his head on Peter’s shoulder jolted in surprise. The movement would have sent them toppling off the table if it wasn’t for Peter’s strong arms, holding fast and tight.

“Hughes.” Peter exclaimed gruffly, turning an annoyed glare towards his long time friend as if saying, _‘Go away, can’t you see I’m busy here’_.

“Go home, guys.” Hughes said with a fond chuckle, ignoring the death glares from Peter.

“Yes, sir.” Neal said, avoiding eye contact with Peter’s boss as he extricated himself (to Peter’s utter dismay) from Peter’s arms and got off the table to turn off the music and shut down the computer.

All along there was a blush creeping up his neck and tingeing his cheeks, which endeared Peter in an all-new level. A sleepy, compliant Neal had been adorable (not to mention hot) as hell. But a blushing, embarrassed, caught in the middle of an office romance Neal was terrifyingly cute. Peter was more determined to make this relationship work just to get that rare sighting again.  

“You know…” Hughes announced, disrupting Peter’s thoughts. “There’s a decent sound system in the conference room. And the table there is much longer and wider than this one.” He finished, eyes filled with mirth even as he tried to sound like the serious boss that he was. Then he promptly left but not before giving a playful wink.

Peter chuckled softly. “Duly noted, sir.” He called out to Reese’s retreating form.

 

 END.  
  
  
Thanks for reading.

 

* * *

  
_Writtten:_ 6 September 2010

 


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